Conscious
by RedLovi
Summary: Lovino Vargas cannot be certain these days on anything. Everything in his life lately has just felt like it's gone so differently than how he had planned. A breakdown was inevitable but perhaps nude swimming, a stranger on a beach, and let's face it, madness, was exactly what he needed... Blatant SpaMano. M to be on the safe side for later content, 16 .
1. Chapter 1

**_Lovino Vargas cannot be certain these days on anything. Everything in his life lately has just felt like it's gone so differently than how he had planned. A breakdown was inevitable but perhaps nude swimming, a stranger on a beach, and let's face it, madness, was exactly what he needed... Blatant SpaMano._**

 _AN: It would not be strictly true for me to say that this is a new venture for me, but I must admit, it is a change. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this... reversion? Not sure how best to label it! I promise that the story will become somewhat more clear and less disgruntled as we go on. Thank you for taking the time to read today, and all comments or reviews are greatly appreciated._

 **Chapter 1 - Night Swimming, Priceless Headcases, and Stars**

 _A coastal town in Italy, November 15th 1999_

It was colder tonight than he'd anticipated. There was a chill wind that flowed through any and every gap - through his hair, under his arms, between his legs. It was never windy, but of course, the wind had to choose tonight to suddenly kick up with a vengeance. Even the sand, usually at least lukewarm felt cold, and he realised just how odd sand felt when it was cold. It was nicer than the sweaty mess when warm, but it felt like dust and decay when cold, something forlorn and forgotten and so unspeakably old. The sand remained when nothing else did. The sea remained when nothing else did. Tonight it sat in front of him, thick and black and still like tar. And then the wind whipped up again, seemingly reminding the massive body of water that it had a current to maintain, and the waves began rolling up again, crashing back towards him and sighing, collapsing into that old, cold sand. He could see that this would be peaceful when you were... Feeling like he was. Just perhaps on a slightly warmer night. But he had set out with a goal and he was going through with it. He was grasping at straws he knew, trying anything that would help, regardless of how unfounded it might be. He took a tentative step forward. And then another. And another.

Lovino was struck with just one thought as the cold water rushed over him, over his knees, then his thighs and... Other areas. Just one thought, and not a very eloquent one. 'Fuck, that's cold.' And it was cold, undeniably so. Especially when it hit you in such a rush like that. But he knew what he was doing. Sort of. He'd heard at least that this was what people did when they were having an episode. Suffering some sort of breakdown was apparently wonderfully offset by naked night swimming. And it was supposed to make everything become clear and understandable again. Right? As he waded farther out into the worryingly murky in the darkness and painfully cold water, he was beginning to doubt that. But he was going with it. He'd committed now. His clothes were folded neatly on a rock - neatly being an understatement, he'd taken all the time necessary, even whilst nude, to button and press and wrap everything immaculately before perching it all on the cleanest rock he could see. He'd told no one about it, not that he had a great deal many people to tell anyway, and he'd chosen the most secluded and isolated part of the beach. True to his reasoning, there was no one about. He swirled the water with a hand listlessly. And took another shaky step further, shivering. Soon enough he was completely submerged. Well, up to his shoulders at least. And then he just... Floated there. On the spot. Not feeling very much more enlightened at all but.. Perhaps somehow more at peace. In a way. If he disappeared right now, would anyone even notice? The waves lapped at the shore and if he drifted off with them, rode the back of one of those foam horses, would anyone care? What was stopping him? Sitting there in the cold water, fading black skies... It was oblivion. And it was blissful.

And it was over all too soon.

"What are you doing?"

Somehow he didn't jump. Perhaps it was being so loose like that, all floaty and drifty and nothing. But regardless he didn't jump. Moreover the voice, though coming as an interruption, was not sharp and sudden. It was sort of... Low but not rumbling, soft and strong and... Hard to describe on the spot. It did not unnerve him in spite of his somewhat more vulnerable state.

"Having an episode." He stated simply, receiving something of a chuckle in return. It was then that he decided he did not know the voice. And that he thought they were too old to be a child or a teenager wandering out looking for trouble. It was somebody older than that. Someone with standing perhaps. Certainly someone more than entitled to judge him. And yet he didn't for once give a shit.

"I see." The voice came again. Lovino just continued to stare up at the sky. It was so dark. So dark tonight that he couldn't even really see stars. He liked stars. Well you know, no more than he supposed other people did, but he liked them all the same. "And uh, what is an episode?"

For some reason, Lovino felt cross at that question. Mostly he suspected because he didn't know what to say. "You know." He grumbled, though of course this was clearly not the case or the stranger would not have asked, now would he? Simple logic explained that one easily. It was such an unfair question. But he began to babble something of a response. "It's... It's like.. You know when you think you're going a bit mad.. A- And you just sort of lose it and stuff. And sometimes, like.. I mean, it's a recognised thing." He felt the need to stress that upon his questioner. "When you're losing it and you just have.. A moment." He summarised finally.

Against all odds, the voice seemed to accept this. "I see, I see." It was at this repetition that Lovino thought to chance a glance upwards at who exactly was speaking to him. It was a man, as he'd knew at once from the tone. And he congratulated himself on having identified a couple of other features accurately in his guessing. He was older than Lovino, clearly taller even whilst sat down, and appeared to be strong and nicely filled out. He had a wild head of chocolate curls, prominent laughter lines and a seemingly constant grin that Lovino put down as the cause of them.

"I... I'm not mad." He felt the need to protest such a notion, despite the fact that the other hadn't said that. He just hated the thought of him thinking it. And yet, at the same time, he had to admit. "But I think I might be getting there."

"You reckon?"

What a strange response that was. "Well... Yes."

"I don't. I think swimming naked in the dead of the night is a perfectly valid hobby."

Lovino bit his lip, unsure of whether that action was from sheer bewilderment or the freezing cold of the water. "... I think that says more about you than it does about me."

The other snickered again. He really was an odd guy, Lovino decided. He supposed his first clue would be that the man would have had to have been walking along a deserted beach in the dead of the night in order for them to even have met. "Perhaps. Can I ask;" He did not wait for an answer to that. "Is this sort of activity very associated with such episodes?"

He considered. "Well... I.. I've heard somewhere that people do it. When life is slipping away and shit. It's supposed to jog something. I don't know. You figure out the answers to everything that's going wrong." The shrug as he spoke was probably proof enough that he didn't exactly buy into the nonsense that he was spouting. But he was desperate. He just wanted something to fix the way he had been living. He was so stupidly miserable, so devastated by everything that had happened recently. He couldn't cope. He hated feeling like this, alone and scared and unhappy. It got to the point where it physically hurt him. And he didn't know what to do to fix it. And if a swim in the ocean promised to fix all of that, he would take it. He needed to go back to normal. He was anxious all the time, avoiding even people he liked. Terrified that... That he'd be found, and it would all start over again. But also wishing that he might return to what had at least been some continuity, a semblance of routine, even if it had been brutal. Thinking like this soon got him crotchety again as he tried to hide his fear and emotion. But he couldn't and he knew it. Instead he fell quiet and hoped that he could somehow blag his way through. A few minutes passed and he grew brave enough to take a glance upwards again. He was half-expecting, half-hoping that he'd left.

He hadn't. In fact he was still looking at him intently. Even as they had a conversation in which judgement would be not only justified but Lovino actually expected it, the man regarded him as... Equal in his stare. He looked at him with unwavering respect. Lovino... Wasn't used to that. He lowered himself again with a little splash. As far as he was concerned there was nothing else to ask now. He'd received and accepted the explanation about what exactly Lovino was doing, so that was that. There was no room for further questioning, nothing else to bring up. He didn't care anyway, right? They were complete strangers. Though it did beg the question what the hell this guy was doing awake. Lovino waited a moment more and then opened his mouth to address the issue but the stranger beat him to it. Lovino looked up at him again, righting himself a little such that it was easier to look out across the waters at him, but he still remained low, somehow feeling safer that way, even if every movement in the cold water felt like knives dancing over his skin. It was almost soothing though in a bizarre unexplainable juxtaposition.

He smiled, a lazy smile. Lovino did not reciprocate. "You know," The man began somewhat charmingly, "I had thought for a moment that you were an angel." Lovino spotted the cross around his neck as though acting on cue.

"I don't think angels swim." He retorted blankly, and got just another little laugh in return. It seemed this man couldn't say anything without a bit of a laugh in his tone. He couldn't really see what was funny. Perhaps in a better mood, he may have done.

"Perhaps not." The stranger agreed. "Besides, you have no wings."

"Oh yeah." Lovino nodded, almost surprised that that hadn't come to his mind right away for being the distinctive thing about such a creature. "Why didn't I think of that?" He must be losing his edge with all the stress. Usually he'd have had some kind of cutting remark lined up about wishing he had wings to fly the fuck away from this weirdo or something of the sorts. Again, his thoughts would not have necessarily been eloquent. But they'd have made him laugh at least. And feel a little better about his predicament.

"Ah, well, you're having an episode." The stranger excused, "You can be forgiven."

Lovino felt a smile flicker across his lips a little at that and was surprised. "Damn straight." He responded, but would not show the stranger the smile his remark had elicited.

"Antonio." The word did not need explanation. Lovino sensed they'd reached an end of their current exchange. He was attempting to bridge a gap to a new one which was strange. He could understand the curiosity factor. Seeing someone... Well, what he did, he could understand the confusion, and a need to question, ask what was going on, but typically people did not try and keep up an interaction after they'd spoken with him. And certainly they didn't compare him to an angel. Honestly, it struck him that this guy was probably as weird as he was. And... Well, that deserved something. "Lovino."  
Antonio meant priceless. He knew that. He had a cousin Antonio. He also once had a very strange teacher of a similar derivation. And historically there was the guy who forfeited any rights to the Roman Empire to chase an Egyptian queen. Priceless. They were all headcases. There was a trend occurring here, he thought as he looked back at the guy still grinning at him from a rock. On a desolate beach. In the dead of the night. But the chill in intimate places brought him back to the fact that he wasn't really in any position to judge. They stared at one another that little bit longer before Antonio spoke again.

"Are you the kind of person who cares about your hair at all?"

Lovino quirked an eyebrow. Was it some kind of trick question. "... Yeah."

"I thought as much."

"Does it matter?"

"You tell me."

Lovino was struck with that same feeling of being tricked again somehow. He wasn't sure if he trusted this guy or not. Especially when he pulled shit like this. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean," Lovino saw the look in his eyes as he replied. That grin became just the slightest bit more pointed. Those eyes seemed to flash, and his eyebrow twitched challengingly. Lovino didn't like it. And at the same time.. It excited something in him. Cocky bastard. "It just seems to me that that salt water can't be doing wonders for it..." He was right as well. Lovino winced as he realised. It would be clumpy and feel weird to touch and curl all strangely. "So I wondered; are there specific rules as to the location of these 'mental episodes'? Could you perhaps have one in the warmth and safety of.. Say, my shower? I've got plenty of shampoo." And then his smile changed again, much more innocent and less competing this time, trying to indicate that the offer did sprout from a genuine place of caring, even if it did flower in something slightly more suggestive.

Lovino paused a moment as he searched himself for the answer. What did he want to say? He supposed he knew that at least, but what he couldn't quite evaluate was whether or not it was a good idea to go through with. It was potentially risky, dangerous even. But hey, he was losing his mind, right? And that was the last thing to go as far as he was concerned. Nothing to lose. "O- Okay." He stammered, the temperature getting to him a little again. "But you have to turn around whilst I get out." He called across. As though all of a sudden he needed his dignity and privacy. Who knew how long the Spaniard had been watching. He'd probably already seen Lovino in his altogether, the bastard.

Antonio seemed surprised and elated that his offer had been accepted. "I don't live far." He promised, standing and turning trustingly and obediently. "Just up there, you see?" He gestured to a house at the top of the cliff the beach sloped up to. It stood alone, separate from all the other beach front houses. He supposed that explained at least a little why he was walking on the entirely secluded part of the beach. It was a nice house, but it did strike him with slight pangs of loneliness. He said nothing but Antonio continued yabbering on. "You should only need to put on your pants as it's so close - save getting everything wet. You can borrow something from me."

Stirring himself, he did as instructed, flicking the water off the ends of his limbs and hair and making his way slowly out of the sea. He pulled on the pants and gave Antonio permission to turn around again. They began the walk up the staggering cliff to the little house.

Lovino was not sure at what point they had started kissing. He was not even sure why - who proposed it, suggested it, initiated. It developed quickly and passionately and breathing and kissing fought for the rights to take up more time. They would stop every few paces and kiss again, like lusty teenagers, losing all boundaries or sense of normality. This pattern continued all the way up to the house, and didn't exactly stop when the door shut.

 _November 16th 1999_

When Lovino woke up the next morning, he was naked. He supposed that wasn't a huge surprise. He'd been naked last night after all, and if he'd showered afterwards, it might just about follow that he'd been shaken up enough that he hadn't managed to change back into anything. On second inspection, he was wearing underwear, which was something of a relief. At least he'd seen sense enough to put on some sort of clothes. Soft sheets kissed at his skin, and noticing that they were white, he realised that they weren't his own. And then he started to panic. He bolted upright, knocking into someone. Feeling a human form beside him in bed just filled him with dread. A panic set in. Everything had been a dream, he was actually back in that big old house, the body beside him was real and stirring and ready to tell him-

But it was Antonio. And suddenly he remembered it all. Well, most of it. Some of it, maybe. He remembered the face, the eyes, the.. Lips. They'd fitted so neatly in the junction between his neck and collarbone, and were capable of being so very gentle and feather-light that they tickled, and in the same breath, firm and tender and leave behind little loving bruises that were licked better immediately by a skilled tongue. He took note of the arm draped loosely over his body. It was bare, as was what was visible of his shoulders and upper torso. His hair was somehow even messier than when it had been whipping about on the beach. After a few more moments of staring, he suddenly noticed that those eyes had flicked open and the Spaniard was watching him back somewhat amusedly. "Alright?" The warm voice sounded.

"F- Fine." He blurted, "I just- I mean," He tried to recover, resorting to a resting state of grumpiness. "Did we... You know, last night?"

And Antonio just laughed. He was coming to expect that from him really. He wasn't sure whether to take offence. "What, I'm that unattractive, you couldn't stoop to it?" He griped irritably, not enjoying the feeling of being laughed at like that, especially considering that last night he'd evidently been good enough to pick up at the beach, bring home and make out with for fairly prolonged periods.

"No." Antonio shook his head, refuting the idea at least and smirking up at him. "I just meant that you would have remembered if we had."

Lovino rolled his eyes, but he felt his cheeks flare up at least a little in spite of himself. "I wouldn't be so sure." He commented. "I... I really had no idea what I was doing last night."

"Come on Lovino. You know I'm a good guy. We didn't do anything that you didn't consent to. I would never take advantage of you like that."

Lovino scoffed. The guy barely even knew him and he was talking like that. But he said nothing.

"Besides, my intentions weren't even to... Well, you know."

"Well I mean I dont know that but whatever." He muttered.

"I'm not going to say I wasn't tempted." The other admitted. "But I mean, it's a very unfair test. When you live like I do in the middle of nowhere and somebody like you washes up on the shore, it does feel a little bit like a cosmic present."

"I'm not even listening to you anymore." Lovino lied. He turned his head and somehow their eyes met perfectly. Antonio was just smiling at him stupidly still, albeit in the morning light, the look was tinged with sleepiness. He leant his head on one arm, propped up slightly by pillows to look over at him. He was mostly covered but the gaps in sheets allowed Lovino a partially obscured view over the ripples of muscles along his chest. Hm. Well, it seemed he couldn't fault his taste even when losing his mind. He almost didn't even notice Antonio talking to him. "You know you look beautiful, all sleepy and pissed off." He was laughing again and flopped onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. Seeing this as the acceptable thing to do, Lovino seemed to be moving on impulse with little input from his brain. He slid down in the covers again, lying back and copying his glance upwards at the wash of paint. But... Not white paint. Blue paint. Swirling. Some white. And then dotted about, gold and yellow dancing as stars. It spoke to him somehow, bringing him back to that moment on the beach. Lovino hated that. "What are you, five?"

He waited for the snap, the irritation. Nothing. Antonio's lips twitched and he was ready. His breath hitched. Ready for some scathing comment, a shout. But it was just another smile. "I like stars."

A pause. He released the breath. "... So do I." But you know, no more than other people did.

Silence fell again.

"I.. I didn't see any stars last night."

Antonio just looked knowingly at him again, replying reverently, "I did."

"Oh yeah?" Lovino caught wind of the look then, and actually felt that same smile reappearing. "You're not going to say something really shit about finding me, are you?"

"Well I mean, not anymore." Antonio joked, sending that heart-stopping smirk his way again. A hand found his under the sheets and he didn't pull away. He wasn't sure how much time passed before the Spaniard spoke again. It could have been five minutes, it could have been fifty.

"Lovino... Are you okay?"

Was he? He thought that maybe, just maybe, at least right in that moment, he was.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Thank you to everybody who read the first chapter and decided to continue! It's my first time writing as Antonio so it was somewhat interesting to attempt. I'm hoping to improve for the future. Any feedback on any element of the fic is greatly appreciated._

 **Chapter 2 - Jusqu'ici Tout Va Bien***

((*Jusqu'ici tout va bien. = So far, so good.))

 _15th November, 1999_

Antonio had often found himself analysed by those around him. It never bothered him but he couldn't exactly understand the appeal either. He didn't think of himself as so much of an enigma in any way. His outward lackadaisical, devil-may-care attitude unnerved people, he'd realised. He was something of a drifter to the outside world, doing as he pleased or as others wanted, going along with anything, the easily influenced sort. What he didn't mention of course was that this was far from true. He was accustomed to planning meticulously. He'd had goals, dreams, aspirations. He'd just more or less given up on them. That was harder to explain, especially when he preached about hope, told others not to lose faith. But it wasn't like that, it wasn't such a direct conflict as his internal attitude might suggest. But he'd come to accept these days that truthfully, you could be someone who went where the wind carried them, or someone who planned every foreseeable event in detail, and in both cases, your life will not go the way you thought. This is simple fact.

That is not to say that it will not get better. But perhaps it makes sense to say: try not to worry so much.

Jusqu'ici tout va bien... Right?

Antonio spoke quite a lot of French. He also spoke German, English, some Dutch, of course Italian, because to attempt to live in patriotic Italy without it was something of an offence... But French was his favourite. He considered it to be that slightest bit more beautiful than others. That phrase, taught to him by a friend of his years ago, often popped into his head. It came to him again now as the sunlight pierced through the drapes and then his eyelids in turn, rousing him. He blinked hard, just once or twice, before forcing himself to open them and took a bleary look around. The feeling of pressure on his arm reminded him that this morning was slightly different. He gave a lopsided smile as he looked down at the sleeping figure. Even though he had somewhat suspected that the angel line would not work on him, Antonio could not help but say it. It was resoundingly true. Especially as those streaks of light through gaps in fabric came in, glancing off of his petite angular frame, shooting off elbows, glancing off prominent collarbones, resting softer on the crown of his hair, like a halo.

He settled back down sleepily but found that he did not quite manage all the way again. He kept one arm draped lazily about the other's form but took instead to practising breathing exercises of sort. In, and out. In, and out. It was enough to coax him towards sleep but not push him all the way. Besides, his breathing exercises only drew attention to the fact that Lovino was right beside him, and childish though it may have been, he could not deny that the prospect was exciting. Every now and then he'd get the faintest waft of salt water, which amused him ever so slightly, but moreover he could smell shampoo - from the somewhat vigorous scrubbing of the damned - and coffee perhaps, and just... Lovino. Warmth.

Jusqu'ici tout va bien.

But any other morning if you asked Antonio whether he was happy with the way in which his life turned out... On a good day, you'd get a "Well..." Some shaky laughter and then an "I don't know. Perhaps not. But I'm fine, really." On a bad day, you'd get nothing at all. Possibly a death glare, if he could muster one. On a bad day, he hated his life. The isolation, the loneliness, the feeling of inevitability - that he couldn't make any more choices, he'd missed his deadline, he didn't know what he was doing anymore. And he couldn't possibly change any of that because... He was past his prime, this was it now. What could he do anyway? He wouldn't even know what to do. He had imagined being married by now, trophy bride of course, who was the apple of his eye. Three.. Four kids maybe, if his income allowed. A cat. Two cats. A house with a catflap - that he'd have put in himself because he was forward thinking enough that he knew what would be required.

There was one slight detail that put a spanner in the works - that being that he'd struggled to find women he'd been attracted to and found the whole thing extremely uncomfortable when he'd agreed to the advances of the few that he thought maybe he'd come to feel a spark with... He didn't. It took a cute German making eyes at him in an 'alternative' club he visited with a friend to finally understand what exactly was up. And it was up. With the young man, it was up. He was rather proud actually of just how up it was.

But uh, that was hardly the point.

Regardless, upon that realisation, things became much easier. Dates were much easier to find. Much, much more enjoyable too. Contrary to the immediate thought in people's mind he had never opposed or struggled with the idea of being gay... It just hadn't really occurred to him. He'd prayed for hours trying to find the answer. He just didn't think the answer would come in the form of a corseted punk with a pink fringe. Especially not if God was the one sending it to him. He always thought of God as a pretty conservative guy so far as fashion trends were concerned...

Most of the time... If he was really honest, he was drowning. He couldn't help it, he couldn't, he just was. He was getting by, sure. Fairly good job where he made more than enough money. He wasn't unhappy in his profession. He'd inherited his grandparents' house in Italy, in a small but beautiful coastal town. He liked it there. The house was somewhat isolated admittedly which perhaps didn't help in his endless thirst for human company. But it was peaceful. On those nights were he desired nothing but to go over his thoughts, it paid off. He could hear the waves rolling. When he looked out of the window, he could see the stars twinkling. The birds cooing. All that lovely flowery shit that he liked to bore his dates with. A really comfortable lifestyle. he wasn't overworked either, which definitely contributed to some people's mental state.

He was lonely. So lonely. So painfully, unspeakably lonely. And he had no idea why. Why was he doing it to himself? Was it him? Of course it was him. He never made an effort with any of these things. His teenage years had flown by in and out of clubs like that where he'd found himself. He travelled all over Europe with friends, never branching out, never getting a job that would hold him back, just little posts to tide him over and pay for the hotel room, and drinks at a club at the weekend. A simple routine, and he'd loved it. When he got the hang of the whole thing, he never failed to pull. His friends had called him 'The Boss' - he had something of a love for little Italians and apparently a Mafia connotation was the only thing they could manage. Did he ever stop to think about whether one of his bevy of beauties was 'the One'? No. Of course not. He was young, free and newly born-again-gay. He was loving it. And now he felt like such a moron.

Working hard every day at a job you were committed to meant nothing when you finished up, got on that train from the city back into the little village turned town - with the introduction of about five chain stores which the locals said made it a town now - passed the time in that lonely little cabin, drummed your fingers on the armrest, tapped your foot on the floor, wiggled in your seat and waited, waited, waited. Then got off the train, walked up that hill and opened the door to nothing and no one. It was so much worse than he'd ever even imagined.

Sometimes he would contemplate putting himself back in the game. He'd have a Saturday free or something and it would occur to him just how easy it would be to get dressed up again, put on a little more of that passionate carefree persona he'd been somewhat known for and ride that train back into the city, find the nearest bar, spot his soulmate and fix everything again in one night of hot, heavy, and downright romantic sex. Then of course they'd agree without hesitation to return with him to the little house and they'd live out the rest of their lives together. They'd get a cat, possibly two, and he'd fit a catflap, and goddamn it he'd be happy again.

But he never did.

Instead he just sat in miserably, lamenting his fate, and wishing he could change it, but never making any effort to do so. And that was what drowning was like, wasn't it?

Well, maybe not exactly but... It was in a way. It was the struggle for breath. It was the helplessness, the feeling of being lost even when dry land was so close. The reach, the grab, the claw, the desperation to reach that shore but not being able to, so giving up. Just staying there, splashing about a little as though somebody was going to hear. Gasping for breath, crying, spluttering, and realising how futile it was and so horrible that you would cough up more water and cry more tears, like the world was only seeking to add to your suffering. He couldn't breathe ever, he felt his throat tightening and nobody even knew or cared on the sand.

But last night, the light hit a head in the water beside him. An angel got a halo that he could see shining even from his position up on the hill. And he'd put his bag down, taken off his jacket and walked down like some universal force was summoning him, telling him to get himself down there. (It had become apparent to him afterwards just how worrying it was that he'd been so leisurely about all of this - knowing as he did that nobody really frequented the beach at night, it was entirely possible that somebody was really drowning and he'd taken his good sweet time about getting down there.) All of that aside, he'd padded across the sand and taken a closer look and somehow he just... Knew.

He wasn't entirely sure what it was that he knew. But he knew. He knew something. Something was... Speaking to him. And after a little effort, Lovino was speaking to him. And Lovino was... He was something. He was more of an enigma than Antonio conceivably thought he could be. And bless him, he seemed to... Understand. He was drowning too. And Antonio wanted to save him, in any way he could. He was not self-centred enough to even consider that he could be some kind of rescuing force for the other but... Well, temptation was a funny thing. His intentions were pure all in all, but... There was something about Lovino. And he couldn't resist.

He resisted to a certain point. He thought he might have resisted to about... Perhaps the third flight of makeshift stairs up from the beach? But at that point something just happened. He looked at him that little bit too long and he just... He lost his mind. He leaned in and prepared to have his head pushed back under that water but Lovino came up to meet him and it was like he'd suddenly been carried ashore.

He was air. Real air, real life! And he couldn't stand to be without it. Every few steps he had to have more, it was addictive after so long without it. Somehow they made it back to the house and into the bed - with a break for showering - and gaining some self-control, he'd not asked to go further. Not that he wasn't tempted. But it had been more than enough to fuel him for days. Months even, years. But just because it was enough didn't mean he wanted it to be the end. Having Lovino here beside him was like... God, he couldn't even describe it! It was amazing, and it was new and he could scarcely keep his heartbeat quiet enough to allow the other to keep sleeping. He knew nothing about him, except that he ached for him.

The excitement had somewhat distracted him though, he knew. There... There was something deeper afoot. An 'episode' Lovino had called it which he'd made a point to Google soon. People didn't just strip off and swim in the dead of the night for no reason. He... He was fragile, that much was clear. But he was gorgeous, and even though that should have been irrelevant, it wasn't. It couldn't be. That bias would always enter his head - he'd always been so easily won over by a pretty face. And seeing Lovino down there like some kind of chipped diamond just tore him open. It was beautiful, but it was hurt. And he couldn't stand it. Instinct took over. And he couldn't tell yet if he would come to regret it or not. He hoped not.

Beside him, Lovino suddenly moved a little. And then he bolted upright, shocking him with the speed of it all. He almost seemed scared like if he didn't get up that quickly something terrible would happen. In his 'old'... Well at least older age, Antonio decided that it was perfectly valid that he could not get up so fast. He coerced his eyes open again, shifting a little to lean on one bent arm such that he could look up at the younger Italian. He still seemed so very panicked somehow. He had to address it. "Alright?" Perhaps not as caring as he could seem but it would do for this early in the morning.

Almost as though he hadn't noticed him, Lovino looked over as he spoke. He allowed his eyes to wander somewhat shamelessly actually - something Lovino put down to him being too tired to resist. He did at least seem rather pleased by what he saw if that twitching at the outer corners of his lips was anything to go by. 'Still got it.' His inner playboy crowed proudly.

"F- Fine." The Italian answered, before tripping over his words. "I just- I mean," He paused, a scowl replacing the little smirk Antonio had so loved. "Did we... You know, last night?"

Ohh, so that was where the panic had stemmed from. Antonio laughed a little at that. He couldn't help it. Unfortunately the little chuckle had an entirely terrible outcome that he felt somewhat guilty about. Lovino began to rattle off angrily something about not being good enough in the harsh light of day. Ugh, how wrong he was, Antonio thought as the light kissed Lovino's skin again. The way he had been rather enjoying doing himself last night. "No. I just meant that you would have remembered if we had."

That seemed to amuse Lovino a little, and his cheeks went all red and Antonio felt... Good. He felt his chest swell a little with pride at eliciting such a reaction. It seemed Lovino wasn't really in the mood to let on though, as he followed up with. "I wouldn't be so sure. I... I really had no idea what I was doing last night."

That last part though, he understood. He heard the truth in it, and he knew the worry. He felt the need to reassure him. "Come on Lovino. You know I'm a good guy. We didn't do anything that you didn't consent to. I would never take advantage of you like that." The other didn't quite seem to believe him. He tried again. "Besides, my intentions weren't even to... Well, you know."

"Well I mean I dont know that but whatever." Jesus Christ, Lovino was unyielding.

Maybe... Honesty was the best policy?

"... I'm not going to say I wasn't tempted." He admitted. "But I mean, it's a very unfair test. When you live like I do in the middle of nowhere and somebody like you washes up on the shore, it does feel a little bit like a cosmic present."

"I'm not even listening to you anymore." He knew Lovino was lying and just smiled, glad that he didn't at least seem to be cross. Well, technically he appeared cross, but Antonio was becoming more and more of the opinion that that was probably forced. A defence mechanism of sorts. He laid on his back instead, looking up at the ceiling. He'd painted stars all over it a while ago. It had been a whim. A particularly lonely night. A pocketful of cash with which to purchase decorator's paint. Some time to kill.

Lovino followed suit, lying back down. "What are you, five?"

"I like stars."

Lovino exhaled deeply beside him. "... So do I." That made Antonio happy that he'd said that. There was really no need to be so cold, he thought. He was already basically certain that he adored him.

"I.. I didn't see any stars last night."

"I did." He replied, making a point of expressing exactly what he meant as he looked at him.

"Oh yeah?" So innocent. "You're not going to say something really shit about finding me, are you?"

A true smile played on the Italian's lips then and Antonio felt that same sense of triumph. "Well I mean, not anymore." Slowly, tentatively, he found his hands under the sheets. Lovino did not pull away. Another victory.

But... Lovino seemed distant. Even lying right there, next to him, sharing his body heat for crying out loud... He wasn't there. Antonio squeezed his hand. "Lovino... Are you okay?"

He got no answer. But in his head he made a vow. He was going to help him. Or at least do what he could. Lovino was a life-jacket. Not hugely romantic he knew but it did the job. You just had to inflate it. It had rescued him, and now he had to take care of it...

Or something like that.

Jusqu'ici tout va bien...

...Right?


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Thank you very much to my two reviewers and everyone who has been reading so far. Your comments really made me smile, I'm glad that there are people following this. I learnt two things in the writing of this chapter - that I really need to remember by days and dates - I had to check the previous chapters about three times! And also, that Nutella is pretty old. Yum. Thanks again, all the best._

 **Chapter 3 - Can You Believe That Frozen Churros Are A Thing?**

 _15th November 1999_

As much as he'd have loved to lie in bed with Lovino all day, he felt at least that he should make some effort to play host. And not just make it seem like he was hoping their explorations of one another could go a little further. He wanted them to of course, but maybe it would be good to explore a little deeper than their bodies to start with. Lovino was... Well, something was up, he knew that much. "So... Breakfast?"

"I don't really eat breakfast." He just returned every ball Antonio pitched to him. And usually the ball hit him square in the forehead.

"You don't look like you eat very much at all." He caught himself offguard saying that. It had sort of come out before he could analyse whether it was a good thing to say or not. He supposed that it might not have been but... It had some basis. Lovino was very thin, and very beautiful with it, he couldn't deny that. He looked like the kind of person who was thin anyway, but... He did also look like maybe he hadn't been eating properly. He lacked some energy, he'd gotten so cold and... He was so distant.

He waited for Lovino to quite rightly tell him off but he didn't. This was also a shock but.. A good one. Perhaps there was hope in him opening up after all. "... I don't really. I haven't lately."

"Then maybe breakfast will do you good."

"You don't have to make me breakfast, Antonio. I'll be out of your hair soon."

All his hope diminished when that was the reply he got and he was blurting again. "Please don't be." Lovino looked somewhat alarmed by just how impassioned he'd sounded. It was fair to fear him when he acted like that, sure. But he couldn't hold back. He was always full of emotion. And Lovino seemed to make it ten times worse, especially when he was in this sort of state. He could see something in him. He could see deeper than the surface beauty, down to something even more stunning. But it was masked in pain. He wanted to help him. And on a selfish level, he wanted him to stay because he made him feel alive again.

"I know.. I probably sound like a real headcase, huh?" He couldn't entirely promise that he wasn't one. "I... I just.." I need you around for a bit. Forever, preferably. It was such a familiar feeling, falling like this. It was beautiful. Maybe not for everybody, not even for himself some of the time. It felt like... Like balancing on a tightrope, or.. or on the wing of a plane. Taking a slow and cautious walk. And then running because you just wanted it over, you wanted to get to the other side right away, to the cheers and congratulations, to the kisses and the touches, and to Lovino. To Lovino, wherever he was. On the building at the other end of the rope, on the wing of an adjacent plane. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, wherever he was headed. He wanted nothing more than to get to him. But he was making that journey, going so fast, and his stomach lurched whenever he realised just how easy it would be to topple over, fall down the gap, trip, stumble, flail, fall, die. "Won't you stay for a bit?" He managed to choke out. If Lovino didn't say yes... At least he could fall right away with the knowledge that he wasn't pining for an unachievable goal. That he wasn't walking a rope that was already frayed.

Lovino just kept watching him with those wide, golden eyes. It sounded mad to say that somebody's eyes were golden but they truly were. They were green in some lights - they'd been green sitting in that sea looking like he was about to break. They were hazel-brown in others - like when they began the walk back up the cliff, and Antonio was given the opportunity to look at him at close range for the first time. And now nestled beside him, with the morning light streaming in, his eyes were golden. Like the most precious treasure he could possibly imagine. But there was no reading those eyes, at least not yet. He didn't honestly know what Lovino was going to reply, and the uncertainty was terrifying. He hated being so unsure. And right at the point where he'd convinced himself that it was a no, Lovino answered. "... O- Okay."

Yes!

Oh God, it was impossible to describe the feeling of elation that washed over him with that one stammered word. Lovino was going to stay with him for a bit. Who knew how long 'a bit' would be though? He was desperate for more and it was so unfair. But every second with him was like a minute, every minute like an hour, and each hour didn't feel enough. They'd known each other... what, nine hours? They'd only been conscious for like four of those, and only spoken properly for about an hour. The rest had been varying levels of noise and silence. A lot of quietness, tenderness, some whispered promises and terms of endearment from himself. Lovino didn't say huge amounts. He wasn't sure if that was true or if he hadn't really given him a chance to. At times he was saying a lot, most of it either neutral or negative, and other times he said nothing at all. Antonio could be really committing to the moment and he would just lie there like he wasn't really sure what he was doing. He liked to think that he was tuning into him slightly...? He would stop at that point, not really used to such behaviour when he was... Well, you know, giving his all, but Lovino would quickly come back to the room when he stopped, apologising and they'd go back to lip-kissing for a bit, and that was just as nice. He did have a thing for necks though.. Particularly Lovino's as it happened. He had a very nice one. He hadn't told him because even he knew that that was a little bit weird to compliment somebody on.

"Great!" He beamed, sitting up in the bed, prompting Lovino to half-heartedly do the same. "So what do you normally have for breakfast?"

"... Coffee."

"I think I can manage that at least. Do you like... Sweet things more or savoury?"

"Sweet."

"Not to be cliche, but I think I could do churros, if you want."

Lovino actually looked amused at that, perhaps the fact that he had drawn attention to it. "But you have to come with me because it's amazing, right - they do them frozen in bags now! Completely ready to go, you just have to fry them! I'd never seen anything like it..." He knew that he was rambling a little. Usually he felt like he'd literally be talking to himself right about now, but Lovino was still watching him just as intently as though he were reciting something of great important. It gave him such... Such a boost, he couldn't describe, and somehow he just kept going. "You can't really get them around here of course, but I always get them in the city, when I'm on the way back from work and stuff-" He walked towards the door as he spoke and Lovino finally interrupted him. He expected some kind of reminder that he didn't actually care about frozen churros, but he noticed that the other hadn't moved at all. Lovino proceeded to ask if he might have some sort of clothing he could borrow and he realised he'd completely forgotten.

"Sorry." He chuckled, running his hands through his thick brown curls. "I can be a little scatterbrained." Lovino regarded him with an expression that said clearly that he agreed, but for some reason he was holding back a scathing remark of proof. He rummaged in his drawers a little, pulling out a shirt that was slightly baggy even on him so would almost indefinitely drown Lovino in swathes of material, tossing it over. It wasn't really worth bothering to find him pyjama trousers he decided - they'd just fall down from the looks of the other's tiny little nipped-in waist.

Much to his disappointment, Lovino remained where he sat in bed, pulling the garment on from a seated position and maintaining his dignity as he stood. He got little more than a flash of thigh. Wiping the slight pouting expression from his face, he continued on towards the stairs. He heard Lovino call out to him as he got up and looked back excitedly for whatever he might have to say. "Don't you want to get some clothes on yourself?" He asked politely.

Antonio just grinned back at him, winking teasingly. "It's my house. I'm being good right now, normally I'd just be naked." Lovino reddened again just a little and he felt those pangs of triumph once again. It was like winning something somehow. Even though he got nothing more than personal satisfaction. He hadn't technically been lying either - it was something Lovino would have to get used to if he would be staying. He hummed loudly as he went down the stairs and seeing as he finished them first got on his knees on the floor, reaching a hand up to Lovino to help him down the last few as though he were some old fashioned gentlemanly type who courted in his boxers alone. Much to his surprise, Lovino actually did take his hand - though he looked just as confused as Antonio did so he sensed he may have gotten the better of him purely because he was so tired that all he was able to process was what was expected of him. Ever the opportunist, Antonio pressed his lips softly to Lovino's hand. Lovino looked like he wasn't sure if he was meant to blush and fawn or punch him in the face. It was a good look for him. Genuinely.

He loved a challenge.

And God knows Lovino was probably going to be one.

They padded into the kitchen and he invited Lovino to take a seat at the table, leading him all the way there and pulling out his chair for him before tucking him in. He sorted the coffee out right away, putting a mug under the little machine and letting it do its thing, placing it in front of him with a big smile, like a dog awaiting praise. That came in the form of a nod. Not much, but it would do. He kept up the puppy-like front when his ears practically did prick up hearing the letter box go.

"Ah, the post! The day gets better and better!" Antonio practically jumped with joy and he could see that Lovino absolutely thought he was a lunatic. he wasn't exactly doing much to discourage such an opinion from forming. But he was ridiculously happy this morning so he couldn't even stop if he wanted to. He strode into the hall, opening the front door a little and scooping up the letters that had fallen on his doormat. He never got to get the post. He was only ever in on a Saturday and funnily enough, he never seemed to get any post then. It was strange really because he got things every other day of the week. Except Sunday of course, no post on Sunday... There... There was no post yesterday.

He looked down at the newspaper in his hands and it confirmed his suspicions. He swallowed. Today was Monday. He glanced up at the clock. Eleven. He'd missed three hours of work already. He looked back into the kitchen and saw Lovino watching him again. He couldn't leave. He plastered on the smile again, walking back towards him.

"Post not so good as you'd hoped?" Lovino asked, and it was very nearly a joke.

Antonio smiled, "I'm afraid not. Paper looks like they didn't have much news to report." Again, not strictly a lie, but not exactly a point either - their local newspaper never had anything to report. "Right, let's find these churros.." He chirped, opening the refrigerator and searching around for a bit before he found the bag. "How many d'ya want, Lovi?" He fumbled around with the pans hanging on a hook above the oven before selecting that which he wanted and pouring a little oil into it, turning on the heat to get it nice and hot and spitting. The Italian shrugged. "Ah, big mistake." He taunted, "I'll just assume you're really hungry and do the whole bag." He mimed tipping them all in. Lovino's face gave absolutely everything away. He was so clearly out of his depth. But to his credit, he was managing to deal. Though it seemed that he might well be judging Antonio's every move. Well, he reassured himself, the guy hadn't left yet so... He must be doing something right? His grin became a little more nervous and Lovino replied "Three."

Three! Oh, that was just the best number now that he'd said it in that gorgeous silky voice of his.

He started up his little tune again as he dropped the three churros - plus five for himself - into the oil and let them fry there. Yum. They didn't take long. Soon enough that smell would be released. And it was one of those truly invasive ones that you couldn't help but smell - fortunately though they smelled brilliant so it wasn't such a pain. In the meantime he... He should probably call his boss. It was funny, exactly as he thought that, Lovino, who had been sitting silently again as they cooked, pitched up: "Don't you... Work on a Monday?"

"Hm." He found himself making the non-committal noise rather than answering properly. He bit his lip a little, staring at the churros intently. He had two options here. Lie and avoid all problematic association but start everything between them on the basis of an untruth... Or tell the truth. But play it off a little? "Uhh.. Yeah." Antonio said eventually, turning his head to look at him, "But it's not a big deal. My boss is my best friend."

That part was true. That was not to say that Gil would not be pissed. Because he would be. He so undeniably would be. Outside of work he was the most fun ever... But inside, he was a dragon and Antonio and his laidback ways often got burnt. They'd been friends for years though so he was always able to overlook any attitude he got from him, albeit giving the slightest cheeky dig when they were out sometimes about a specific incident that had happened in the week.

They met in Spain when he was eleven and Gilbert had probably been... Ten? Nine maybe. He wasn't quite sure. The German had been on holiday and basically cursing the sun due to his perpetual paleness. This of course had been the funniest thing Antonio had ever seen in his life. And Gilbert had found it equally as funny that Antonio had decided to rock-pooling with a guitar strapped to his back, which kept swinging around and buckling his knees. He had to take it, he'd explained, in case he wanted to sit down at any point and play. Because that totally happened when you were doing this sort of thing, right? Gilbert hadn't been so sure. They kept in touch after the holiday and as it happened, his family ended up moving to Spain a few years later, following some sort of incident with his little brother at their school. Well, they said 'little' but Antonio had never really thought of him that way - he'd been bigger than Gilbert even when he first met him aged seven...

Anyway, they continued the rest of their schooling together, university included. They met Francis, another friend and co-worker of theirs, during secondary school. He was sixteen, Gilbert fifteen and Francis seventeen in his first year of the sixth form at school. The French boy had basically decided he was in love with Gil, from the very little he'd seen of him at tables at lunch - generally making a scene and clowning around. The real deal proved to be, in his own words, 'bitterly disappointing'. Which Antonio knew wasn't a whole truth - he'd definitely seen them fooling around more than once, even in recent years. What it really meant was that they wanted to be friends more than they wanted to be anything else. And they were great as friends, he had to admit. They had a lot of fun as a trio, but if he was honest, he could at times get envious of the other two's relationship. They were like one another's shadow. Francis could calm Gilbert down when he got completely mental, and Gilbert was always a willing participant in Fran's mad schemes. He was always a little too spacey himself to fit exactly with either of them. But as a group, they were good.

They could get a little loud and a little crazy sometimes but people generally agreed that they were headed places, if they could just knuckle down a bit. His mother always said that they were like thirds of the same whole. Individually they possessed some great traits, but they needed to combine them if they were to actually get anything done. She categorised life skills into three little traits: drive, direction, and passion. Gilbert she said had drive and direction - he was confident enough to get things done and could easily find somewhere to apply himself, but he wouldn't be hugely invested in the result. Francis had passion and direction - he could find an area to go and had the passion to become interested in the field and give it his all, but he lacked the drive to actually go for it; he'd more just wind up talking about it. And then there was Antonio. Supposedly he had passion and drive but no direction to apply himself. He personally felt like he drew the short straw. It was all very well being outgoing and caring but if you had nothing to do with it, it was all a bit shit to be honest.

And almost exactly as predicted, Gilbert had found a field. He'd been successful. He wasn't particularly attached to it but he got the job done at least. He'd given jobs to his two best friends, pretty high-ranking ones too, both executives on great pay. But Francis had a dream of his own... He just never got up and did it. Not when he was well-taken-care-of here, on good pay and easy hours. And Antonio was passionate about what he did and got the job done to the best of his abilities... Even though he knew that it might not exactly be what he was destined to do. But he still couldn't even identify the one thing that would make him happy.

These days he was putting his blues down to his lack of significant other. He was certain that that must be it. If he just found someone to be with, everything would be fine and dandy. He'd be happy again! And that was totally it, right?

He had to admit, he was wondering if he might have been right as he stood there looking at Lovino. Already he was practically over the moon. But... He knew that this was risky business.

"Uh Antonio.." Lovino's voice summoned him from his thoughts. "You might want to turn the churros."

"Oh!" He spun on his heel, doing as instructed. "Lucky one of us is on the ball, huh..."

Antonio tapped his foot as he continued to tend to the pastries in the pan. It was not much longer until they were done. He sugared them and presented them proudly on a plate to Lovino. holding his hand up in a gesture of 'Wait' before he fetched a jar of Nutella from the pantry. "Ta-dah!" He must have been looking pretty expectant as he sat down opposite the Italian because Lovino's eyebrows were slightly raised again in that way that he was coming to understand meant that he was amused but reluctant to show it. And then he smiled, one of those wonderful real ones again and Antonio could only return it, taking a churro between thumb and forefinger and dipping it into the jar, making no effort to stop his grin, even as he ate. Lovino replicated the gesture, giving an appreciative noise as he did so, approving the food he supposed. He looked so cute as he did it. He looked so cute as he did anything.

Oh yes, Antonio was most definitely back on that tightrope.

"I know right? Can you believe that frozen churros are a thing?"


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Four updates in four days, what is wrong with me? I actually have work to be getting on with... I have done approximately none of it. Regardless, this story has got me inspired at the moment and that's something. Thank you to everyone who's been reading so far, please give feedback if you have the chance, it's greatly appreciated! TW for this chapter: physical abuse._

 **Chapter 4 - The Sixteenth of March**

 _16th March 1989_

Tonight Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was out for blood. Well, not blood exactly. He was going in for the kill, and he did want exchange of bodily fluids, just ideally not blood. Because that kind of arrest could really spoil an evening. It was obvious what he wanted - without all the fluff of description - it radiated from him. His walk more of a prowl, his demeanour friendly but targeted. His eyes glowed like a predator. Fortunately, he thought the whole thing was rather sexy on him. But he typically liked to think of himself as a pretty sexy guy. He'd more than had his sexual awakening and was very aware of his charms and effect on others. Tonight he hunted in a pack and that was even better in his experience. The air already smelt of sweat and breath and sex. He lived for these places. Agh, this was going to be such a great night if all went as hoped.

Italy was his absolute favourite place to party. Put simply, it was full of Italians, and God knew he loved them. Sweet and sincere Catholics by day, driven by entirely different motivations by night - much like himself. Sunkissed skin, dark hair, warm eyes... He got a little turned on just imagining. And he'd pretty much already spotted a target. Well, hello beautiful. Prepare to meet your match...

 _16th March 1996_

It was the night before Lovino's birthday. And his brother's coincidentally. And that always meant the same thing these days - Feli wanted to party. He had just boundless energy constantly, and he handled his alcohol way better than Lovino did. Not that it mattered really, Feliciano was in a pretty committed relationship with a guy who.. Well, Lovino would describe him as boring but he didn't like him very much so it was perhaps unfair bias. He didn't really know why he didn't like him. He wasn't exactly one to talk about being fun himself given that he was needing a lot of encouragement to go out. Regardless, Feli's man wouldn't drink if the Italian was choosing to so that there was somebody sober to take care of him. He had to admit that the notion was sweet. He was still a dick though. He was going for Feliciano. He could never say no to Feliciano, not really. It sucked. But it was impossibly hard to be rude to somebody who wouldn't stop smiling. He both loved and detested that about his brother.

But Feli wanted to party up North this time around and... He wasn't so sure. Admittedly there wasn't very much going on where he was. But it was where they'd grown up. A short train ride into a nearby city and there were at least three clubs, one of which was specifically for people their way inclined. It was a bit of a dive sometimes but it was alright. As usual though, his brother was bloody-minded... Wonder where he got that from.. And so Lovino had agreed. But it meant he would have to take Rafaele. Raf didn't like him to go new places by himself. He didn't really like him to do anything by himself. He knew that he was only looking out for him but.. Sometimes it was a little stifling.

They all got dressed up, or whatever it was you called it when you were their age. He would be twenty-one tomorrow. Feli would be twenty. It was mad. He felt like time had suddenly shot forward and left him behind floundering. Twenty one. He had no idea what he was doing with his life. He exhaled, studying his reflection in the mirror. He at least knew what he was doing tonight. His outfit knew as well. It was a little risque but certainly not as outrageous as... Well, pretty much anyone in the club would be wearing. He knew full well that Feli would likely outdo him even, with the sole intention of flustering Ludwig, of course.

He saw Rafael approach him in the mirror. He seemed pleased with his choice. Lovino felt strong arms circle around his middle, and the gentle press of lips along his neck. Maybe it would be fun if it kept heading like this...

 _16th March 1989_

Exactly as expected he had not struggled in the slightest to catch his prey. A couple of dances nearby first - you never wanted to seem too eager. Then was the hardest part, catching the eye. There were various ways to go about this in the kinds of loud and overcrowded clubs that Antonio frequented. One was making a spectacle of yourself. You know the drill, clamouring, shouting, invading personal space of those around you. Not quite his thing. Gil would do a good job of it if desperate but usually they preferred the more subtle approach of making yourself completely available and nearby. Allow whoever's making a scene to go for it, and instead focus on your subject. Hone in as it were. Get slowly closer. You know that thing where you literally feel people's eyes on you? Yeah, we want a hell of a lot of that, baby. He'd study and scan and watch those he was interested in. Not too creepily - though Antonio had to admit he'd been through the ringer on that one in his early days. He'd more or less perfected the technique now to look just the right blend of scary and seductive. He was persistent, people had to give him that.

It took him no more than three tries to catch the attention of his target, who quite clearly was expecting somewhat unwelcome attention. His face lit up when he saw Antonio as his admirer, looking away and then back again with a little grin. Coy. He loved it. He took it as the go-ahead to approach and a few drinks and some pretty close and steamy dances, and mission achieved. He danced behind his new lover for a while before gently pressing his lips along the other's neck, making his intentions painfully blatant. Soon enough he'd got the sweetheart in the corner and was gently pinning his arms above his head against the wall, and leaning in for a series of deep, fervent kisses. He didn't tend to stop for breath either. At least, pretty rarely.

This guy was a good kisser, which he appreciated. Antonio had always been one for kissing. Sex was great and all, but it was even better when accompanied by so much teasing kissing and little touches that you were almost driven wild. He wanted to stimulate and stimulate until his skin practically felt electric, and you were burning up, and every touch after that just sent you both into a wild frenzy of lust and desire.

He pulled back a moment, feeling tapping on his shoulder. He looked up, eyes still clouded in an expression that could only be described as primal, somewhat like a lion being interrupted from feeding. He heard the slight whimpering groan from the body beneath him that he'd stopped and felt somewhat boosted. "What is it?" He tried to remain patient.

"This place is spent." Gilbert announced. "We're gonna go and hit the one on the avenue. You comin'?"

Hm. He did like the spot on the avenue. He swung his head back around, recalling once more that the arms he was holding still were real. The boy was cute though. Sunkissed skin, dark hair, warm eyes, little cross around the neck, exactly as promised. His decision was made pretty quickly. "No, you're alright. Have fun." The others turned to go and he grinned. "Now where we, _querido_?"

 _16th March 1996_

Feli had promised that the clubs in the North where he was living were busier... And to his credit, it was true. There were loads of clubs around here, seemingly all backed onto one another such that you could leave one and very easily accidentally trespass into another. Nobody would care though - everybody was off their faces on life... Or cocktails.. Or other substances. Regardless, the air was buzzing and the general atmosphere was vibrant and alive. Raf bought the first round of drinks and Lovino was, against all odds, enjoying himself. They danced, they drank, they were merry.

As the evening went on, the room seemed to fill up even more where back home it would normally diminish. People flocked into the place and everybody was pressed together. Normally Lovino hated all of this but he was thriving. The drink was good, the company was good. He and his brother would get out on that floor and dance like nobody else was around. It was fun, it was living. And all it took to get him to loosen up a bit, Feli laughed, was a couple of glasses of red. He definitely would not be driving home. But who gave a shit? He had cab money. And he was young, and alive, and it was his birthday tomorrow - everything that one could possibly celebrate he had going on!

Even Raf was being more fun than usual. He usually detested these places and had no problems declaring such. But tonight he was on his best behaviour. He mostly sat with Ludwig, who was nursing a soda at the bar, but he'd danced a little and everything. Lovino was almost proud of him in a way. He was really making an effort to enjoy this for him. Lovino realised that he did love him really. He just got a little frustrated with him sometimes, that was all. Did that mean he didn't love him? Of course not. Every couple had their issues. Clinginess was just Raf's thing, and in all credit to him, he wasn't being like that at all. Lovino even felt secure enough that he agreed to a particularly sweet guy's insistent request to dance with him. And what harm would it do? There was no grinding or anything like that, he was a good boy, and explained politely that he was taken. There were no issues and the man sauntered off afterwards, thanking him anyway. Then it was back to him and Feli just using the middle of the room as their own personal stage. This was so much fun! He had to go up North more often!

He turned a moment, feeling a tapping on his shoulder. He smiled at the source. "Rafael?"

"Come on." The other hissed and for a minute, Lovino was confused. He felt fingers on his wrist, and then a tightening as he was pulled towards the back exit. "I need some air. You're coming with me."

"Oh.. okay."

 _16th March 1989_

They stumbled out into the alley and Antonio laughed, making sure to keep his newfound companion propped up. "You okay?" He checked, still grinning. "Who knew they put a step there, right?" The pretty little thing giggled and Antonio felt that familiar surge of pride. Tonight had been so much better than expected. And now he was sealing the deal which was always awesome. Well, maybe he wasn't. But there was the opportunity that he might be and that was not to be underestimated. Besides, kissing had him more than satisfied so win-win either way, no matter what happened.

When the air hit them it was cold, which was hardly a surprise. It was a chilly night and there was scarcely breathing room in there between the congregations of people. People gave off a lot of heat as it happened. Fortunately he had prepared for such an scenario, and quickly slung his jacket around the shoulders of his date for the night. "I promise I don't live too far." He took his hand, and they walked off into the streets, bound for his - hopefully much warmer - house!

 _16th March 1996_

Lovino stumbled out into the alley and Rafael laughed bitterly as he fell to the ground. "What are you doing?" He shouted back at him, eyes wide with fear. He had no idea what was happening right now. He'd never been in a situation like this with Raf, with anyone. He didn't know what was going on or if he was misreading. All he could really say was that he was scared. He tried to get back up, only to feel himself kicked back down. All he could think was that he'd bought those boots for him last Christmas. It was such a stupid, irrelevant detail in his current position but it flooded into his head and made him want to cry. He let out a small noise despite his body willing him to stay quiet and that's when the big hands reached down for him, dragging him up.

He convinced himself that this was it now, that it was over and everything would be alright. Whatever weirdness had been about to happen wouldn't. He'd overreacted, misjudged the situation. Rafael hadn't pushed him out the door, he'd fallen. And he laughed because he thought he was alright, he hadn't kicked, it was a nudge. The punch was harder to ignore.

Once, hard into his chest, and then a series of fast, winding shots towards his flat stomach that had looked so good in the shirt, he'd thought, but now just felt exposed. He was faintly aware that Raf was speaking, but every time he tuned in he just heard curses and slurs - 'slut', 'whore', and 'bitch' being a few choice ones. He was crying now, he was certain of it, but that just seemed to spur him on more. He got a few more digs and a slap, finding himself pressed back against the wall firmly.

Where was Feliciano? Where was Ludwig? He hated the guy but he'd have given anything for him to appear right now, for anyone to! He kept his eyes glued firmly on the door, trying to focus hard enough that it would magically open and someone would rescue him. He tried not to think about the searing pain, the words being spoken, and the tears streaming down his cheeks, the pleading spilling from his lips.

And then the door opened! It was the drag queen from earlier. She wouldn't have been his first choice, but she was somebody. He begged through the pain, "Please help me." But he couldn't even tell if the words were coming out. He implored her instead with his eyes.

"Move it along, honey." She crowed instead to Rafael, obviously far past intoxicated herself. "We keep that kind of thing at home."

Lovino could only stare in horror. Nobody was going to help him, were they? People... People didn't even notice, let alone care. One swift punch to the head and he'd blacked out.

The next morning, Rafael was sorry. He explained that he had no idea what had come over him and he'd quickly realised how wrong it was, and he cried a lot, carried Lovino home, put him to bed. And... And he believed him, of course. Anyone could see that he was being genuine, right? Besides, they were both guys, it was... It was different, wasn't it? Because he could fight back and stuff if he wanted to or.. or something. He was sorry. And Lovino said that it was okay.

So this was what twenty one was like, huh?


End file.
